The Girl With the Angel Wings Tattoo

I'm not a big fan of tattoos. A few of my family members and a minority of my friends sport one or more.

Of course, more friends may have tats that I just don't know about, and if that's the case, I probably want to keep it that way.

Not being a fan of tattoos in no way reflects a judgment on my part about people with tattoos.

Tattoos can be meaningful. Tattoos can be clever, cute, beautiful, artistic, tasteful.

Kevin and our good friend Paul almost got "Packers" and "Bears" tattoos, respectively, many years ago. I'm thankful that Paul, who by then had an infant daughter, came to the conclusion that maybe he didn't want to have to explain to his daughter, 18 years down the road, why it was ok that he got one but she shouldn't.

I've thought about it. Something small and cute on my ankle maybe. But, frankly, I'd rather avoid needles unless medically necessary.

Disturbingly, I have seen a few tattoos on women at my gym ... women who are great grandmothers ... women who I'm sure thought the tattoo was meaningful and a good idea, at the time. Fifty or 60 years ago.

I see a lot of tattoos on women in my yoga classes. The other day I was mesmerized by a tattoo on the young woman holding a perfect tree pose in front of me. Tattooed on her back were angel wings. Not too large, but large enough. And, I'll say it, quite beautiful. Through my exhaustion and sweat, for a moment I thought an actual angel was standing just two feet from me.

But I know she's not an angel. Real angels are too busy saving Chilean miners and doing that sort of amazing work to be doing yoga on a Monday morning.

Thanks, all you Angels out there.